


You Can Spit Or Choke On It

by wave_of_sorrow



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comeplay, Hand Job, M/M, Quiet Sex, Spit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/pseuds/wave_of_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is an exceptionally foolish thing to do. Especially with half of Scotland Yard next door in the abandoned factory building, doing their best to ruin any and all evidence there ever was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Spit Or Choke On It

It is an exceptionally foolish thing to do. Especially with half of Scotland Yard next door in the abandoned factory building, doing their best to ruin any and all evidence there ever was. But I cannot bring myself to stop, not with Watson’s body pressing me against the cool wall, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him even through layers of clothes as he kisses my neck.

 

I groan low in my throat as his moustache scrapes roughly over the fragile skin beneath my ear. His head snaps up at that and there is a sparkle in his eyes that I cannot define, not in the half-darkness of the room. He treats me to a crooked smile, pink lips begging to be kissed. My breathing gets somewhat heavier as images of those lips stretched over my cock, red and swollen from abuse and shining wetly with saliva and pre-come, flash through my mind.

 

“Watson…” I whisper roughly. Two fingers at my lips silence me.

 

“Shh,” he smiles darkly at me, “You have to be quiet, Holmes. You cannot make a sound, do you hear me?” he breathes into my ear, voice full of promises, “Nod if you understand me.”

 

I nod.

 

“Good boy,” he bites the soft spot behind my ear, before looking at my face, eyes almost instantly travelling to the two fingers still resting on my lips.

 

He rubs the pads of his fore and middle finger against my lower lip, pushing it down and running the tips of his fingers over my teeth, the inside of my bottom lip, the backs of his fingers swiping over my gums with the motion. He carefully closes my mouth again, trailing damp fingers along my lips and down to my chin. He takes my chin in hand and rubs his thumb over my jaw, paying special attention to the very hinge of it, making sure I relax the muscles.

 

Satisfied, he moves back to my mouth, hips pressed against mine. The calloused pad of his middle finger traces my lips before parting them and pushing inside. I lick at the digit, tasting salt and tobacco as I tangle my tongue around it.

 

He thrusts another finger into my mouth and I greedily lick at it, unable to do anything else as his other hand forcefully holds my mouth open. I cannot close my mouth around his fingers and suck on them as I long to do, I cannot even swallow. Watson makes sure my mouth stays wide open as he rubs his fingers against my tongue, the roof of my mouth, tracing the insides of my cheeks before pushing them far enough into my mouth to almost trigger my gag reflex. Almost, but not quite.

 

My mouth is filled with saliva and as it starts to run down the back of my throat, I try to swallow reflexively, throat contracting convulsively as Watson forces my mouth to remain opened. My eyes widen slightly as spit fills my entire mouth, settling beneath my tongue, between my teeth and the insides of my cheeks and the only thing that keeps me from coughing, gagging, swallowing, choking as it steadily trickles down my throat is Watson’s hand tightening on my jaw.

 

I inhale and exhale forcefully through my nose, unable to pant with my mouth full of warm, just slightly slimy liquid. He thrusts his fingers in and out of my mouth, the wet sounds sounding loud and obscene in the dark, quiet space.  I can hear and feel the saliva shift back and forth in my mouth, rushing from the tip of my tongue to the back of my throat as it clings to the motions of Watson’s fingers, every time threatening to spill over – down my throat to choke me or out of my mouth and down, down, down – but never doing it.

 

My cock hardens quickly as the motions of Watson’s fingers give  my own tasteless saliva the faint taste of salt and tobacco and lemon. His lips are slightly parted and he is panting, hot breath rushing past damp lips as he fucks my mouth with his fingers, knowing full well that I get off on this as much as he does. The thought of those fingers  doing those very motions, only with me on my hands and knees and Watson behind me, fingering my tight hole, wet with lubricant, makes my mouth water. Literally.

 

With every push and pull of his fingers more spit gathers in my mouth and I can hear the sound of it sloshing around in my mouth, the feeling of it against the back of my throat deliciously uncomfortable. I begin to breathe with it – push, _breathe in_, pull, _breathe out_. And then for the fraction of a heartbeat it hovers against the edge of my bottom lip, threatening to spill over. And then it does.

 

A flood of saliva runs down my chin and onto Watson’s hand forcing my mouth to stay open even now, as my jaw twitches and the muscles contract. A warm trickle down my neck, quickly cooling as Watson crushes his mouth to my wide open one, not bothering to remove his own fingers from it as he greedily swallows every drop of spit in my mouth, licking my lips, down my chin and neck, biting hard at my pulse point, growling and groaning. Had I not been sucking hard on his fingers I would have groaned out loud as intense pain and pleasure ripped through me. As it was, I only hummed around his fingers.

 

I work my jaw around his fingers, sucking and licking, scraping my teeth along them as he rubs his cock against mine through our trousers.

 

“On your knees, Holmes,” it’s a rough command, even as it is barely above a whisper.

 

I comply and drop to my knees, hands flying to the fastening of his trousers and pulling them far enough down his hips to free his straining cock, red and wet with pre-come, and his balls. He grabs my jaw and yanks it down, a painful crunching noise accompanying the opening of my mouth. Watson does not pay any heed to it, simply pushes his pulsing cock in my wet mouth.

 

His hand is at the back of my head, fisting painfully in my hair as he fucks my mouth hard. I desperately try to breathe through my nose as  he violates my mouth and throat, makes my jaw throb and ache and my cock twitch in my pants. I feel lightheaded, dizzy, as he thrusts his cock into my mouth again and again. I have no control over the rhythm, cannot even work my tongue around him. It is harsh and dirty and quick.

 

With a stifled curse he shoots his come down my burning throat and into my mouth, but before I can swallow, his hand closes around my throat. He squeezes once, just so, just because he can, before dropping to his knees too and again forcing me to open my mouth.

 

He kisses me, his come trickles down both our chins and we swallow with our mouths still locked. As we pull apart, thick, gooey strands of come and saliva link our mouths and he makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat before diving back in. He undoes my trousers even as he is licking into my mouth and I moan into the kiss as my cock finally springs free.

 

Watson closes his fist around my pulsating member and with a few hard strokes I am coming over his hand and my own trousers. He continues to tug and stroke my softening cock until the sensitive skin is raw and abused and I am keening into his mouth.

 

With a last swipe of his thumb over the sensitized head of my cock that makes me twitch, he pulls away and gets up. I take the hand he offers me and we clean up and right our clothing as best we can. Watson reaches out and strokes my cheek before kissing my forehead, then we turn to leave.

 

We emerge from the room, trying to appear somewhat dignified and claim to have thoroughly searched every corner of it and have found nothing. Lestrade acknowledges this with a noncommittal sound and proceeds to shoot us strange looks for the remainder of the week, but says nothing. And Watson smirks slightly every time I take a big gulp of tea, puffing out my cheeks and swallowing loudly and forcefully. I try my best to look innocent.


End file.
